


Truth and Consequences

by BlueMaple



Series: True Love's Gifts [3]
Category: Maleficent (Disney Movies)
Genre: Domestic, Drama, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gifts, Guilt, Light Dom/sub, Love Confessions, Mature Understanding, Not-Proposals, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Relationship Goals, Romance, Shameless Smut, True Love, shinies - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:01:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27632443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueMaple/pseuds/BlueMaple
Summary: In Which Maleficent Makes a Confession,  Resolution Is Achieved, and Shinies Make Their First Appearances...Twenty-one years after Aurora's christening, Maleficent reveals a long-kept and shameful secret on What Actually Happened That Night... (Post Negotiations).
Relationships: Aurora/Phillip (Disney), Diaval & Maleficent (Disney), Diaval/Maleficent (Disney)
Series: True Love's Gifts [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1943206
Comments: 3
Kudos: 44





	Truth and Consequences

**Three Months After Aurora and Phillip’s Wedding**

There is a particular spot on the far western edge of Maleficent’s domain - a spot where the sweeping wing of the verdant cliffs merge with the smooth, creamy grey rock of the shoreline, blending in turn with the wrinkled blue sea as it merges with the flaming sails of the horizon - that is unquestionably the best place on the Moors to watch the sunset. It has become, over the years, one of Diaval’s favourite places, not just on the Moors but in the world, particularly when he is lying as he is now, sprawled naked and contentedly in his mistress’ equally naked lap while she plays with the soft little feathers in his hair and smooths her fingers over his scars, tracing each down and down and...

“Diaval."

“Mistress?" Diaval inquires, through lazily half-closed lids.

“We need to talk," Maleficent says. Diaval opens both eyes fully and immediately, alarmed. After over two decades of traveling among humans and more than occasionally as a human, he’s learned a great, great many things. One of which is that when the female of the species - _any_ species - says _that_ particular phrase in _that_ particular tone…

He’s a raven, he reminds himself firmly, not a goose. No cooking allowed.

“Alright,” he says, with trepidation, and waits. When she fails to continue… “Have I done somethin’ to upset you, Mistress?"

“No,” Maleficent says. “No, Diaval. You have not. Sit up.”

He sits up, outright unnerved now, and faces her, cross-legged. 

“We need to talk,” she says again, and then, taking a visibly deep breath...… “No. _I_ need to talk. _You_ need to listen. Without interrupting me. Please,” she adds begrudgingly. Diaval can’t help but glance out over the horizon at that. The sun is still setting peacefully, the world showing no actual indication there, at least, that it’s about to end, but…

“Do you remember,” Maleficent says. “The night after Aurora’s christening?”

Silence falls, with a very audible thud. Oh yes, Diaval remembers alright. Or rather… He doesn’t. Twenty one years, and the empty spot in his memory still occasionally niggles, like a tiny bald spot where a feather was plucked and never regrew. He doesn’t pick at it anymore. It’s scarred over thoroughly. But it’s still _there._

“No,” he says, and if it’s a bit short… Well. He may or may not understand why she did it, but then again… She never returned the memory either. That in and of itself tells him, given how upset and enraged he’d been, how bad it was, but still. 

_Still._

She could have _offered._ He would have refused her, since she’d obviously have needed him to, but she could at least have given him the _option._

“No, Mistress,” he says again. “I don’t.”

“Then I’d like to tell you,” she says. “What actually happened.”

And Diaval’s twenty-one-year-old resentment, stirring irritably now in its carefully tended grave, stills abruptly.

“What _actually_ happened,” he repeats, puzzled. “How do you mean, what _actually_ happened?”

“I didn’t hurt you,” she says bluntly, and again, as he blinks at her… “Please. Don’t interrupt. This is very… “

She stops. He waits.

“It’s difficult,” she says. With difficulty. 

“Alright,” he says, and that’s all. Maleficent takes another deep breath.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she says. “I knew what would happen if I did. That I would… That I would hurt you. Given how the day had gone… Quite possibly past the point of being able to heal you. I told you that. That you should leave. I ordered you to. You refused. So I changed you to a man. There was less of a chance …”

She looks out over the horizon. 

“It was a bad night,” she says. “You held me. And sang to me.”

Diaval waits. She says nothing more.

“And?" he prompts.

“No ‘and'. You held me and sang to me. We fell asleep. I woke up first, and took the memory. You know what happened after that.”

The raven looks at her, perplexed.

“I held you and sang to you,” he repeats. “That’s it?”

“I might have cried a bit on you,” she admits. “And told you in great and exacting detail on how I would have cursed Stefan, if I hadn’t had actual, if minimal, morals. You made a few excellent suggestions as well.”

“Does it count as interruptin’ if you’ve finished a sentence?” he ventures. 

“No,” she says. “I’m finished anyway."

“You sure about that?”

Her lovely face spasms irritably.

“No,” she says. "We talked about more than Stefan.”

“We did, did we. Do tell."

 _“Now_ you’re interrupting.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Mistress,” her lover says kindly. “But I _have_ spent the last twenty years wonderin’ just how close you came to actually killin’ me. Never mind worryin’ on you, and on what not talkin’ about it all it must be doin’ to you. You owe me a little tolerance an’ understandin’, don’t you think?"

“I wasn’t _ready_ for it,” she says irritably. “I wasn’t ready for _you._ On what letting you hold me and sing to me implied. It scared me. And I’d just seen _him,_ and the last time… The last time I’d physically seen him, _he’d_ been holding me. And I woke up and my wings were gone.”

Diaval digests that.

“So you put me to sleep first,” he says cautiously. “Because you were afraid that if you fell asleep first, you’d wake up and I’d be gone? You were frightened because you realized that I was startin’ to mean somethin’ to you?”

“You weren’t...” She catches his Look. “I didn’t think about it on that level. You’re the analyst in this relationship. But… Yes. Looking back… “ Her face spasms again. “You held me, and sang to me. And I told you to leave, and you wouldn’t. Not just didn’t.. But wouldn’t. And I tried to change you, and you caught my wrist, and then you kissed me.”

It takes a good thirty seconds for the raven to process that. When he does...

“Sorry, _what?"_

“You kissed me.”

“And you _still_ didn’t hurt me?"

“No. I did not.”

“Why not?” It is blank. Maleficent gives him quite possibly the most profoundly irritated look she’s ever bestowed upon him in all the twenty-two years they’ve known each other. He retracts prudently.

“So why did you make me forget?” he asks instead. “Seems to me we might have been comin’ to a bit of an understandin’ there."

“Perhaps because it was I who needed the understanding, and you didn’t? You were just operating on instinct as you always have. Instinct, that however useful it’s proved, has always irritated me because I just don’t have it. The rest… The rest was just embarrassment. And giving myself time to process. To process … You.”

“Took you long enough,” he says dryly. 

“I didn’t know how to bring it up,” she admits honestly. “We were busy. Raising a child. After the point… We were friends. Then more. And he was gone, but he was still always _there_.”

“Mm. You're lucky I’m the forgivin’ type. Did you ever intend to tell me?’

“I don’t know. I thought about it, the night he died, after I had my wings back. But I thought you might be angry, too, and I wanted to keep it to myself. It was a perfect memory. I didn’t want you to qualify it with anger.”

“I understand that,” he concedes, and he does. “Did you ever take any more that you’ve never told me about?’

“No,” she says instantly. “Not after… I might have... But you forgave me for it, the first time. I hadn’t expected you to realize… To put the pieces together. I knew if you did it once, you would do it again. And then you would leave. Even if you stayed… You wouldn’t be there."

“I would have come back. Might have stayed away a couple days, but I would have come back. We would have been havin’ a severe talk, mind you. And I might have bent your beautiful self over my knee for it, before I agreed to forgive you again.”

“What?"

“Turned your bum red,” he translates. “Spanked you?’

She gives him an austere Look. He gives her a level one right back. She brings her hand up. He catches it.

“I _would_ turn you into a dog for that,” she tells him. “And I might not turn you back."

“You never know. You might like it."

“As much as you…” 

He leans in and catches her mouth. 

“I love you,” he informs her. “And I forgive you. Thank you for tellin’ me."

“I wouldn’t _like_ it,” she reiterates stubbornly.

“I’ll tell you a secret, Mistress,” he says dryly. “I don’t exactly appreciate it when you play some of your preferred games on me, either. And you know it, and you’d be lyin’ through your pretty pointed fangs if you were to deny that that’s the major part of the fun for you."

Maleficent frowns at him. “I’m not denying it,” she says. “But if there’s truly something, Diaval, that you would prefer I not do… Making you miserable is one thing. Making you unhappy is another."

“I would tell you.” He looks over the sea. “I like it when you’re proud of me."

“What do you mean?"

“When we’re out together. And I’m standin’ by you, beside you, lookin’ my best beautiful self, and you're proud that it’s me with you. So that others see it.”

“You'll have to be more specific on how I manage it if you would like the gesture consciously repeated."

Diaval shifts a bit, and reaching over into the pocket of his neatly folded coat, holds out his hand. She looks down at his palm.

“What’s this?"

“What’s it look like?’

“A ring,” she said. “Are you asking me to _marry_ you?” It is profoundly perplexed. “That's not a faerie tradition, Diaval. You know that.’

“No, Mistress. I’m not askin’ you to marry me.” He actually rolls his eyes. “Ravens don’t marry either. We just stay together. Forever. And give each other shinies as occasional demonstrations of our mutual fondness.’’

Her lips twitch.

“Shinies,” she repeats. “You’re giving me… A shiny?"

“A shiny,” he says. “For my pretty bird.” He smiles at her sideways- and for the first time in all the years he's known her, his mouth actually drops, startled as she…

“Mistress,” he says in absolute charmed delight, physically turning to face her full on. “Are you _blushin’?"_

“No,” she snaps. “I am not."

“You _are!_ You’re _blushin’!_ I made you blush!”

“Pull yourself together,” she snaps again, shoving the ring on her finger. “You did not. It’s warm. I’m flushed. From the _heat.”_

He falls back, cawing and cackling, springing up and prancing, arms outflung. “I made you blush! I made you blush! I did! Me! Me, Diaval, made you, Maleficent, blush!’

“You are,” she informs him. “Utterly _ridiculous._ Honestly. The things that make you happy."

“You make me happy.” He spins over and hauls her up, catching her and bending his head… The kiss that ensues is deep and hungry on his part, and not a little bitey and fangy on hers. He pulls back and grins down at her triumphantly, his chest veritably puffing. “And now you’re flushin’ _and_ blushin’!’" He squawks as she lets her weight go, and he is flat on his back. She bends and catches his face, caging it in her talons as she kisses him breathless again. His lips, when she withdraws, are torn and red, and his eyes are black and round and dazed.

“Yes, Mistress,” he rasps.

“Mmmm.” She nibbles painfully on his ear. "As in 'Yes, Mistress, I love you, Yes, Mistress I need you, or Yes, Mistress, I’m yours as long as we both shall live?’"

“Are you askin’ me to marry _you?"_

“I don’t ask,” his queen informs him. “Not insofar as you’re concerned, Diaval. I tell.”

“I thought faerie don’t do marriage."

“We don’t. Our daughter, however, is human. What can you do. We spoiled her as a child, and now we’re bound to fulfill her whims or live in misery for it for the rest of our lives."

“Oh.” He moans as she grinds down. “Ohhhh hell’s shiny bells, Mistress. Just… Yes. To anything. Everything. Whatever you need. Whatever you want. Except that. No.”

“What?’ She sits up, painfully.

“I won’t marry you. Not for anyone else’s sake, ever.” He shakes his head at her. “This doesn’t have anythin’ to do with Aurora, Mistress. It shouldn’t. It’s between you and me. And you are who you are, and what you are, and I would never ever _ever_ want you to bow to someone else’s traditions, or to pretend to be somethin' you’re not, or to compromise yourself for my sake." He reaches up and touches her horns. “She was young and stupid, and she hurt you when she asked you to cover these more than Stefan ever did. And you still wore the damned thing, out of love. I want to do this your way. Out of love. The only thing I ask of you is to wear this ring, and it’s just… It’s not about commitment. It’s about you bein’ proud of me again. “

“Do you think I’m not?”

“No, of course not. You wear me on your sleeve. Your heart on your sleeve. It’s just specially nice when you make the unsubtle point to others. Would it compromise you as a faerie to wear it?” he asks belatedly. “Or make you feel bad about yourself? If it would, or does... The memory of the blush will be more than enough."

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course it wouldn’t. It’s just a ring.”

“A shiny,” he corrects. 

“I stand corrected.” She strokes his hair. “What may I offer you as a gift in return?’

“You are the gift.” 

“I appreciate that. But I’m serious.”

He traces her ear in return.

“You gave me back the memory,” he says. "I know how hard that was for you."

“It was never mine to take. Or return. I should never have taken it in the first place."

He regards her. Her eyes actually drop.

“I’m sorry,” she says. He leans in and kisses her with his torn, red lips.

"Surprise me,” he says. “I like surprises. Only caveat, it has to be somethin' that’s appropriate to display in public."

“Mmm,” Maleficent says. “I’ll think on it. And in the meantime..." She angles her hips. He moans deeply. 

“Mistress… Hell’s bells, Mistress. Please, please, please…”

“Please what?" she murmurs.

“Just… Please. Whatever you want. I love you so much,” he says desperately. He throws his head back, and arches even further as she withdraws and slides back a bit, reaching behind his sack and scraping a light talon across his… 

He freezes instantly. She flicks her fingers. He feels nothing. He sets his jaw. She slides back a bit more, and lifts his strong muscled leg, draping it over her shoulder, and scraping her fangs along his bare calf. 

“Try to relax,” she says, not unkindly. “I do enjoy seeing you squirm, but there are times the screaming does get distracting."

He breathes, or tries to, pre-emptively, as she settles and spits in her own palm, applying it to her own very specifically altered self. He doesn’t mind her fingers, but she doesn’t do this often at all, mostly because she’s well aware that it’s one of the very few things that he does grimly tolerate without any appreciation whatsoever, but every now and again, when she’s feeling particularly vulnerable...

His face twists and he tries to breathe as she places herself and begins to push, watching his face as she trails her fangs along his calf again, shifting a little so her lips brush his inner thigh. He hisses, hard, as teeth and cock begin to press in. Dark sparkles of pain begin to swim behind his lids as he clenches his eyes shut… The fangs withdraw and so does she. He blinks up at her, confused.

“Wha…” She lowers his legs, and flickers her fingers again, sliding up beside him, head on his shoulder. “You didn’t have to stop."

“It’s not what I want,” she said. “Not right now."

Diaval props himself up on his elbow. Her eyes are closed lightly, and he understands... He bends his head, lightly, slowly, as he imagines he might have in the memory, his lips feathering across hers.

“Shh,” he murmurs. “Shhh, Mistress. It’s alright. I’m here.”

“Don’t leave me,” she says, eyes closed. 

“Never,” he says. “Never. " His lips trace along her glass-sharp cheekbones. As he kisses her again, nuzzling her lips till she opens for him. “Say my name.”

“What?”

“Say my name,” he says. “You don’t have to open your eyes. But who’s here now? Tell me. Tell yourself. Who’s kissin’ you… Who’s touchin’ you. Who’s lovin’ you."

“Diaval,” she says. “Diaval.’

“That’s right.” It’s barely a whisper now. His hands trace her shoulder, her arm. Brushes a small, shallow breast with a thumb, catching her hard peaked nipple, and squeezing gently. Her breath catches. “Shhh, shh. It’s alright, Mistress. I would never, ever hurt you.”

“How do you know what to do,” she said, eyes still closed, and again, from her tone, he knows it’s something she’s revisiting from that long-ago night.

“I’m your wings,” he says. “My eyes are still my own. And humans are more obsessed with each other’s bodies than any raven ever was with shinies.” He bends his head and swipes the nipple with his tongue, before sucking gently, waiting on the familiar soft, guttural sound before moving to the other, then back again, alternating. She hisses, her arms coming up to clutch his head, no talons, just…He moves up to kiss her again, her eyes are wide and dilated in the dim light. She looks as young and uncertain, he thinks, as she must have the first time she …

He stills abruptly. She struggles. “Shh, shh. It’s still me. Still Diaval. I’m not goin’ anywhere. I just need you to answer something’ for me, Mistress. One question, before we go any further."

“Now?’

“Yes. Did you and Ste... He... Never…"

There is silence. She turns her head away. He turns it back.

“All that stuff I remember you sayin’,” he says. “The first time we were together, About him bein’ bad at flyin’. It was a cover, wasn’t it? You’d done it before… But not with him. It was with me. That night. We did more than just kiss a bit, or me holdin’ you and singin’. There was actual matin’ involved, wasn’t there?”

Still she says nothing, head turned again.

"Maleficent. Answer me. It's important."

“Are you angry now,” she says. It sounds a bit remote.

“No,” he says. “Did I hurt you with it?"

“No,” she says. Her cheekbone, her profile is glass-sharp, glass-brittle. “It was beautiful. You were beautiful. You made me feel beautiful. While we… I forgot about him. Completely.”

“Then why _did_ you make me forget?’

“I told you. We weren’t ready yet. I wasn’t ready. It was a moment, outside of what was happening. Apart. We hadn’t resolved anything on the personal level... We hadn’t even begun to be friends. It was… A moment. A gift. Something perfect. In and of itself. And I was selfish, and didn’t want you to regret it. And the only way for you not to regret it… For us not to regret it together, was for one of us to forget it ever happened."

Diaval strokes her cheekbone as he thinks on that.

"I’m glad you did it then,” he says finally

_“What?’_

“I’m glad you did it,” he says again. “That you made me forget. You’re right. We weren’t ready. Not to deal in the moment, but like you said, with the after. We both would have both woke up confused. It would have been confusin’. Too confusin’. I don’t think I would have left, but this way… It was a gift from me. Even if I didn’t know what I’d given.” He feathers her mouth. “What did we do together?”

“Really, Diaval?’

“Yes, really. Curious creatures, ravens. I want to know.”

“It wasn’t like… There wasn’t any pain,” she says. “For you, I mean. It was uncomplicated. Simple. Reciprocal. Clumsy. You swore a lot on complicated human anatomy, when we were sorting out the specifics. Hell’s shiny bells got quite the workout .’

Diaval laughs.

“I knew how to use my fingers on myself anyway,” she says. “I showed you what to do.” Her cheeks tinge. “You thought you were hurting me, when I.. “

She pauses. His lips curve up at her mischievously, and his black eyes dance. 

“When you realized you weren’t hurting me. You were quite enthralled, and decided you liked the way I - it - sounded, and spent the rest of the night finding ways to elicit it again."

“And you let me?”

“Yes.”

“And did I enjoy myself?’ he teases. 

“Not because of anything I did to you,” she says honestly. “Aside from the obvious. It was fairly one-sided, that way. You just…” Her cheeks tinge again. “I tried. You pushed me back, not roughly, and said “No, Mistress. Let me.”

“I said no to you?’

“I was feeling indulgent. I let it go. That once.’

And again, Diaval snorts with laughter. He boosts himself up, and her too. They pull their clothes on. 

“Go on then.” He braces himself.

_Intoaraven._

They fly back to their nest together. When they are settled…

_Intoaman._

He breathes deeply, as he always does, recovering his equilibrium. He shakes himself lightly, and turns to her. Her clothes are gone again. He bends his head to touch his lips to hers. Her arms come up around his neck.

“Diaval.”

"Yes, Mistress?’

“Just… Diaval,” she says. 

“And Maleficent?’

“As you wish. The choice is always yours.”

He runs a light hand over her breasts, suddenly acutely aware that she is naked, and he is not.

“Did I call you Mistress that night?’ he asks.

“Yes.” She looks torn.

“Tell me.’

“You’ve called me your pretty bird before,” she says reluctantly. “It’s why I… I remembered. Suddenly."

“I _did?’_ He looks genuinely taken aback. “That was a bit insensitive of me. Under the circumstances."

“It was and it wasn’t? I was upset at first. You saw that, and said ‘Wings don’t make a bird, Mistress, or a faerie. Nothing can change that much of your beautiful self.' I said ‘What would you know of it,’ and you said ‘You remember, don’t you, when you transformed me the first time, and I was looking for my own wings, and I said ‘what have you done _to_ my beautiful self. Not what have you done _with_ my beautiful self? The beauty was never in question. And it isn’t for you, either.' Followed up by 'Hell’s shiny bells, woman, you’re so bony; I need to feed you up more.'"

He caws with laughter, then slides down beside her and takes her in his arms. He runs a hand over her wing, straightening a slightly off-center feather. She slips a hand inside his shirt and traces his scars with her fingertips. He shivers violently, pleasurably.

“You keep doin’ that,” he rasps, “and I’ll be sayin’ please right back, and it’ll cancel right out."

“Or perhaps… Encourage reciprocity?” she suggests. “Just this once? Again? Though if we’re going there, you should take your clothes off."

“You could do it for me,” he suggests back, and at her eyebrow, meekly… “Please?"

“I could,” she concedes magnanimously. “Very well. On your knees.’

He slides up again. She slides, opposite him, on her own knees, facing him. She begins with his laces, mindful of the talons. 

“I love you, Mistress,” he says softly

“I love you too, Diaval,’ she says, without lifting her head. Diaval lifts her chin, gently. 

“Thank you, Mistress," he says. “For… Everythin’. All of it. And I take it back. I don’t forgive you. There’s nothin’ to forgive, understand? If I’d understood then, that night… And you’d asked me, even, and explained… I would have wanted you to make me forget. Because it was what you needed. On the condition of course, that one day, if the timin' was right… You’d tell me what had happened.’

And her fingers still, and resume again, and Diaval catches her hands, the last piece of the puzzle falling into place.

“I did say it,” he realizes. “Didn’t I. At the last moment. I knew what you were going to do… And when you hesitated... I said it. And I said ‘It's alright, Mistress. I understand. Go ahead, and when you do tell me again, one day, I’ll say exactly the same thing. Even without promptin’, if you don’t tell me I did say it; see if I don’t.’"

And her face is suddenly wet. He wipes it dry with the palm of his hand, and leans in, and begins to kiss her, pulling her in, and they are pulling his clothes off, and he is bearing her back, propping himself on his hands, and her hands come up and twine themselves in his hair, and he reaches between them, kissing her deeply again. He slips up on his knees again, adjusting her legs and folding her own knees back, pushing them apart as he works himself inside her, then out, almost all the way before plunging back in one long smooth, gentle movement: over and over and over. Her back arches, her hands clenching as she throws her head back in abandon. Diaval licks his thumb, not missing a beat as he circles and rubs and presses _there_ , watching her face avidly, eyes flicking down and back even as he buries himself in her, over and over.

“So beautiful,” he rasps. “So hot, so tight. You’re just so tight around me, Mistress. I can feel your heart beatin’ around me, right through your insides, ahhhh…"

“More,” she demands. “More, Diaval, harder!” She gasps as he obliges. “Ahhh....” She curses, taut back arching even higher.

“Improved a little, have I?” he teases, not ceasing with his rhythm or thumb for a moment. “I must say, I like the idea of a whole night of hearin’ you do the screamin’ for a change. You’d get even more out of it than the first time, considerin’ I do know what I’m doin’ now.”

“NOW, you wretched bird!’

And Diaval slams forward, jarringly, his thumb flicking deftly and simultaneously… Her howl nearly brings down the roof of the nest.

“And there’s one,” he says. “Keep on like that, and you’ll have the proper rasp down before midnight, never mind sunrise...”

**Author's Note:**

> One more to come!


End file.
